


Praying Unto Nothing

by Gozufucker



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Although that isn't important, Angst?, Gen, I have no idea what to tag here, I just like the idea of Lancelot interacting with people, This happens after the prison tower event, character study-ish?, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gozufucker/pseuds/Gozufucker
Summary: Jeanne had often made clear any of her fellow Servants could come and unload their worries to her. A certain someone takes (?) the chance.





	Praying Unto Nothing

Jeanne quietly glanced to the clock which rested on the wall of her room, the cute cat-tail like extension swaying with each moment that passed to the rhythm of the soft clicks that left it. It was about seven in the evening, and most of the servants in Chaldea were already focused on their evening hobbies. Astolfo had passed by earlier to ask her if she'd like to come and play some games in Diarmuid's room, since they'd finally gotten their turn with the game console, but she gently passed and instead decided to spend her evening reading in peace.

She'd never really got the charm of video games. Not that she was the type to judge, but why live another life through a game when their lives were unfolding right in front of them? Doubly so when they had been given another chance. But maybe she just wasn't the type to enjoy such things... She'll need to borrow that handheld Astolfo played with from time to time. 

Anyhow, her book for the evening! It'd taken some time to pick and choose, but she'd decided on decidedly modern literature. Or modern to her standards, at least. The Count of Monte Cristo, written by Alexandre Dumas. The newest arrival to Chaldea, Edmond Dantés himself, raised curiosity within her. She had a strong sense that she'd spent some time with the count of vengeance, yet that seemed wholly illogical. She'd remember such a meeting... Well, reading about his life before talking to him seemed wise to her. It was a genre-defining experience from what she'd heard.

She didn't even get to seat herself properly when a loud knock echoed against her door. Jeanne's brow raised as she set the book down on her bed. How odd, the door had a buzzer. Why come knocking? A visitor didn't bother her, since she'd made it clear multiple times that she was always willing to listen to the woes of her fellow Servants. Perhaps this was another lost soul who needed some help? Hopefully it wouldn't be de Rais, however. She didn't mind his company to a point of it being a bother, but he could take so much of her time.

She answered the door with a smile, looking straight ahead as the door opened.

"Hello! Who-"

A black mist like no other that enveloped the figure in front of her, her eyes trailing upwards the featureless lump of metal and insanity even she could smell, until her eyes landed on the red visor that stared ahead and above her head, slowly lowering itself to stare down at her. The deep red suddenly flashes into a bright one as the pile of smog and steel begins to clatter loudly, shaking on the spot. She recognizes those vibrations. Berserker... Or rather, Lancelot, usually violently reacted to seeing a certain Saber.

"AAAAH... AAARRRHHH..."

And Lancelot had, previously, mistaken Jeanne to be said Saber. She could already see where this was going, and she was woefully underqualified to handle a Berserker's rage right now. Just as she was about to lift her hands up to try and calm the situation down, the vibrations stopped, leaving the Berserker to stand there in silence once more. Until it let out another hellish noise, although with a far more tolerable volume level.

"... Gala..."

Jeanne raised a brow, but could gather that Lancelot's rage had subsided for a moment. Thank goodness, she wasn't ready to deal with a scene right here in the base, especially with the cleaning afterwards. She'd do her duties without any moans, but avoiding the whole matter entirely was preferable. After a moment of awkward standing Jeanne stepped to the side to see if Lancelot wished to come inside, or if the mysterious knight had simply knocked on her door on a whim.

Apparently not, as the black knight soon walked inside. Jeanne observed his movements, noticing they held a certain stiffness, as if the knight was unsure of just where he was going, and WHY he was moving. Eventually he stopped right in the middle of the room, simply standing there. Jeanne closed the door with a little, awkward drip of sweat running down her cheek. She didn't mind Lancelot visiting, but his class made him unpredictable to have around. She didn't want her room to get trashed.

"Are you here to discuss something... My ears are always open for the worries of my fellow Servants."

Jeanne spoke with her usual calm tone of voice, although it was rather hard to keep up as she moved to sit down on the bed, staring at Lancelot's back. How could she hold a discussion with someone who couldn't talk? Obviously, there was no answer as Lancelot simply turned to stare down at her, not moving to take a sit or to even squat so that they could fake some semblance of equal eye contact.

Instead, Lancelot simply groaned out again in that suffering voice of his. It made Jeanne feel sorry for the lumbering pile of metal that hid a broken man beneath it. While it hurt her ears, she couldn't dislike the noise. She was still unsure of what had happened with Lancelot and Artoria, but she knew that the event had hurt both of them deeply. Enough to leave scars on them.

"Aaaarthuuurr..."

It wasn't a loud scream, thank God. More a wail of someone who was unsure of just what to do, completely unmoving as he stared at Jeanne. Did he simply want to look at her? Her "resemblance" to Artoria could be bringing him comfort, maybe? But then again, whenever Lancelot saw Artoria, he snapped. This had to be something different.

"Do you want to talk about Saber, Berserker? I'm not sure if I can help be of any help, but the chance to ease your worries would bring me some peace."

She said her usual lines, and they seemed to reach Lancelot as he let out another wail that could be taken as a yes, although she was still unsure. Lancelot didn't move, so he hadn't taken offense. Hopefully.

"I'll take that as a yes, then!" Jeanne smiled and continued, trying to find the right words. "I don't know what's driven a wedge between the two of you, but from my understanding, the two of you were close friends and comrades in arms before some horrid event tore you two apart. Do you feel at fault?"

No answer. Was she wrong, then? Questioning herself here wouldn't bring any results.

"If you do, I... Well. I can't give fair judgement, since I don't know of those events in full. But those things are in the past now, in an era which both of you have left behind. It'd be healthier to try and reconcile, especially now that the both of you are in a position where you must work together for the sake of the future."

Jeanne lifted her hand in response to Lancelot, who still had not reacted.

"That isn't to say that your experiences hold no weight: you should hold them close to your heart. If Artoria wronged you, you should not simply forget the matter. But you shouldn't hold vengeance in your heart either. Remember the misdeeds both you and her committed in the past, and try and learn to forgive both her and yourself for them."

Jeanne chuckled to herself.

"If I'm right in guessing that the issue is within your relationship, that is. It is the first issue that passed my mind, but if you have anything else on my mind, I'd be more than happy to listen to them as well."

Silence. Jeanne almost felt like continuing her monologue, but finally the creaking wailing returned, this time a little louder. The smog covered berserker lifted his hand to stare at the armored palm, red visor flashing brightly for a second. Had she hit a nerve?

"GALA... HAD..."

Gala... Had? Galahad? A name Jeanne wasn't familiar with, although she could sense that the name held great meaning to Lancelot. She tried to think of all the servants that inhabited Chaldea, yet no Galahad sprung to mind. This had to be one of the knights, yes?

"Galahad? I can't say I know the name, but-"

The howl came again, this time louder.

"GA... LAHAD..."

There was turmoil in that voice, more than she'd ever heard come from the ball of anger and metal that was Lancelot. While the voice usually held many emotions within it, it was rare to hear sorrow come through so clearly. Or perhaps, she was simply imagining it. A convenient lie in her brain to make the Berserker in front of her seem more human than he truly was. God forbid, she wouldn't think so.

"... I think this Galahad would forgive you too, Lancelot."

She had no idea if that was what Lancelot wanted to hear. Or if Lancelot had even hurt this Galahad. All she knew was that they had to be important to Lancelot, for he only spoke of the few important things in his life. Artoria... And now this Galahad. The moment she finished speaking another shrill shriek rung through her room, although this time it held no meaning. A simple, loud noise. Like an animal wailing.

And then Lancelot left. Not in a hurry, but in a slow gait that seemed like suffering made manifest. Jeanne said nothing as the armored figure disappeared and her door shut once more, leaving her alone in her room. Her hand reached for the book she'd left on her bed when Lancelot came in, opening it up at the first page. Yet, she found it hard to focus.

"I'll remember you in my prayers tonight, sir Lancelot."


End file.
